


A Very Important Lesson

by Lady Divine (fhartz91)



Category: Glee
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Angst, Crushes, Dalton Academy, Language, M/M, Principal Sebastian Smythe, Romance, Sexual Tension, Skank Kurt Hummel, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2016-11-09
Packaged: 2018-04-12 14:29:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4482839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhartz91/pseuds/Lady%20Divine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian Smythe is the principal of Dalton Academy, and Kurt is a new transfer student with a huge crush on him.</p><p>Written for the Kurtbastian Hiatus Project. Warning for age difference, but not underage, language, sexual situations. </p><p>I always felt these two deserved more, so I will be adding to this in one-shots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [A Very Important Lesson](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4862630) by [Alina_Petrova](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alina_Petrova/pseuds/Alina_Petrova)



“Principal Smythe?” the high nasally voice of Patricia, Sebastian’s portly receptionist, called over the intercom. “Mr. Kurt Hummel is here to see you.”

Sebastian took a deep breath in and let it out slowly, closing his eyes and clearing his head. It took a lot of mental preparation for Sebastian to deal with Kurt, and Sebastian had to deal with him every…damn…day.

Kurt Elizabeth Hummel – a senior, and Dalton’s most recent transfer student from McKinley High. Dalton didn’t have many mid-year transfer students this semester, but out of the seven they had gotten, Kurt was unlike any of them. In fact, with his purple hair and his piercings, he wasn’t the typical Dalton student.

Sebastian didn’t get the chance to meet Kurt his first week of school since he was at a conference in Cincinnati, but he heard all about the precocious young man the minute he stepped foot back in his office that following Monday. Apparently, Kurt had been too much for the vice principal to handle.

After Sebastian returned, she immediately went on vacation.

Kurt had managed to find a way around most of the school’s rules, including exploiting several political statutes and culturally exclusive loopholes that allowed him to keep his violet-colored locks and row of cartilage piercings regardless of the fact that they were in direct violation of the school dress code.

Intrigued by the stories he heard featuring Dalton’s newest cynic from both students and staff, Sebastian called Kurt out of class and in to his office, which might have been his biggest mistake. From the moment Kurt laid his glasz eyes on Principal Smythe, he would not leave him alone. Sebastian had had his fair share of students crushing on him before. Being one of the youngest principals in Dalton history probably didn’t help much on that account. But Kurt was different. He was positively relentless. He tried everything possible to get Sebastian alone. Without a vice principal to delegate Kurt’s discipline to, Sebastian came up with creative ways to deal with Kurt so that he didn’t have to handle the boy personally, but Kurt was shrewd, even for a teenager. He combed the Dalton rule book, identifying all the infractions that he had to break in order to force the principal to deal with him, and yet not get him kicked out of school.

Kurt definitely had an attitude problem, but that wasn’t the issue that got him transferred. Kurt’s father had opted to send him to Dalton because of their zero-tolerance bullying policy. Kurt had apparently been slammed into lockers and tossed into dumpsters at McKinley for being gay (a fact that Kurt made a point to emphasize with a smile and a coy flash of his tongue piercing the first time he ever spoke to Sebastian). After three plus years of watching his son turn from a straight-laced, shy young man with aspirations of becoming a big-name Broadway star to a pierced, ripped jean and leather wearing hooligan, leader of a gang called ‘The Skanks’, Burt Hummel had had enough. He knew he needed to keep his son safe and put him back on the right track toward his future.

Sebastian was sure the man hadn’t counted on the tremendous crush that would turn his A-plus son swiftly into a D-minus student.

Sebastian had spent more time talking with Kurt in the last month and a half than he had with his own fiancé…well, ex-fiancé now, and that was part of Sebastian’s problem.

Sebastian was vulnerable, and Kurt happened to be his type. On the surface, Sebastian scolded Kurt for his constant flirting and inappropriate comments, but each and every time he heard Kurt’s voice, it lit a fire in his stomach. Kurt appealed far too strongly to the spurned teenager still lingering deep inside Sebastian’s brain – the bitter eighteen-year-old he had been, who sold fake ID’s on campus, and fucked boys like Kurt in the bathroom of nightclubs and bars.

But Sebastian wasn’t a teenager anymore. He was a grown man, and in some incredible stroke of luck, Kurt appealed to that side of him, too. The few times Sebastian had gotten Kurt to open up to him – really, honestly open up - he had seen past the boy with the purple hair and the piercings to the well-spoken, intelligent, creative man he was becoming. Sebastian found he was attracted to that man, too…exceedingly so.

“Principal Smythe?” the voice over the intercom repeated.

Sebastian opened his eyes. His moment of peace gone, it was time to confront his adversary, and as exhausting as it sounded, he couldn’t help the smirk that curled the edges of his lips thinking about it.

“Let him in,” Sebastian said.

The door opened, and a more understated version of Dalton’s one and only Skank entered his office. Sebastian had noticed subtle changes in Kurt’s dress as of late. The bright violet in his hair was a more muted deep purple, and Sebastian wasn’t too sure but he thought Kurt might be missing the hoops he normally wore in the shells of his ears. Sebastian knew for certain that his eyebrow ring had gone suspiciously absent for over a week, and he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, Kurt was changing his look because he thought it would appeal to him.

It warmed Sebastian’s heart. He would never want Kurt to change for any man, but it was still flattering.

“Hello, Sebastian,” Kurt said with a sly grin as he passed by and took the seat in front of his desk.

“Kurt,” Sebastian said sternly, “we talked about this. I am your principal. Call me Principal Smythe.”

“I’m sorry,” Kurt said, putting his bag on the floor and throwing a hand up in front of his face, pretending to be mortified. “Whatever you prefer, of course, _Principal Smythe_.”

Sebastian swallowed hard as he sat, pulling his chair in quickly and trying to hide the way it affected him when Kurt called him _Principal Smythe_ in that teasing tone of voice.

“Do you know why you’re here today?” Sebastian folded his hands on his desk, his face serious, his gaze locked on to Kurt’s eyes, focusing on remaining impassive as Kurt toyed with the barbell in his tongue.

“Because you enjoy the pleasure of my company?” Kurt crossed his legs right over left and sat up, prim and straight. Sebastian’s eyes flicked to Kurt’s long legs for a second, following them as they moved, and then back to Kurt’s eyes, which shimmered with hidden laughter.

Sebastian knew he had been caught looking.

He stood and began to pace behind his desk. He faced the far walls on each pass, giving himself something else to stare at other than Kurt’s legs.

“You’re here because Mrs. Forsythe informs me that you’re failing French.”

“I know.” Kurt dropped his head, attempting to appear repentant. “I’ve been struggling. It’s just so…it’s just so difficult…” Kurt sniffled for added emphasis. “I need…” Kurt raised his hooded eyes to meet Sebastian’s gaze “…guidance.”

Sebastian looked once, then turned his eyes away, shaking his head.

“I don’t think you need help,” Sebastian said, trying to call Kurt’s bluff.

“Of course I need help,” Kurt stated innocently, all trace of amusement expertly veiled. “I’ve gone through five tutors in the two months since I’ve been here. I failed the last three exams. _You’re_ the French academic advisor. It’s your job to tutor me as a last resort. So…” Kurt uncrossed his legs, opened them wide, and then re-crossed them again with the left leg over the right this time “…tutor me.”

“I think you failed those tests on purpose,” Sebastian deduced, pushing the image of Kurt’s legs…and his crotch…out of his mind.

“Now, why would I do that?” Kurt batted his eyes, keeping up the act.

“I think you’re looking for attention,” Sebastian said. “I think you’re looking for attention from me.”

A small smirk slipped on to Kurt’s face. “I swear, Principal Smythe,” he pleaded unconvincingly, “I desperately need help. If I fail this class, Mrs. Forsythe is going to make you _hold me back_.”  

The last three words were a purr past Kurt’s lips.

“Sorry” - Sebastian returned to his desk and opened a manila file folder lying there - “but I’m not buying that.”

“You haven’t heard me speak French yet” - Kurt paused to bite his lower lip - “so how do you know what I can do?”

Sebastian tried to ignore the provocative way Kurt pinched his lip between his teeth and flipped through the pages of the file until he found what he was looking for. He turned the folder to face Kurt, tapping at a passage of handwritten words at the bottom of the page.

“Because your last French teacher wrote on your transcript, and I quote, “Kurt Hummel is an exceptionally talented linguist with a near perfect accent, and speaks French like a native.””

Kurt waved a hand dismissively in front of his face.

“A public high school teacher,” Kurt said, sounding like a perfect snob. “You know as well as I do, Principal Smythe, that the curriculum here is much, much _harder_.”

Sebastian would have rolled his eyes at the obvious and childish innuendo if he wasn’t using every ounce of mental strength he had to keep his interested cock from making an untimely appearance.

“Kurt…” Sebastian planted both hands on his desk and leaned forward slightly, fixing Kurt with his severest gaze “…we’ve discussed your inappropriate behavior before, haven’t we?”

Kurt stood up, planted his hands in front of Sebastian’s on his desk and leaned in close enough for Sebastian to feel his breath ghost over his lips, tickling the tip of his tongue.

“Am I behaving inappropriately?” Kurt asked, his voice guileless but his lips wearing that same, sly smirk from before. “I thought I was here discussing the status of my academic future.”

“You know what I mean.” Sebastian pushed off the desk and stood up straight, needing to put some space between them before he seriously started to consider taking Kurt right there, bent over his desk.

Jesus! If he did, he’d never be able to sit at that desk without a massive hard-on again.

“Let’s just say, for argument’s sake, that I _do_ know what you’re implying,” Kurt started, slowly walking around the desk and pursuing Sebastian as he made his way to the other side of the room. “Would it be a bad thing? I mean, you’re super-hot…I think I’m kind of hot…and we _are_ both adults…”

Sebastian scoffed. He wasn’t going to simply take Kurt’s word for it that he was eighteen.

Luckily, Kurt’s file, still opened on Sebastian’s desk, left no doubts. Kurt definitely was eighteen. A legal adult.

Sebastian may have triple-checked.

So maybe fucking him would be immoral, but not illegal.

Hell, if Kurt knew all of the Dalton loopholes (and Sebastian knew he did), then he knew that Sebastian wouldn’t even lose his job for dating a student as long as the student was a consenting adult, and as long as they didn’t fraternize on campus.

With every step Kurt took closer, Sebastian felt his resolve slipping.

“Come on, _Principal Smythe_ ,” Kurt teased, fixated on breaking through Sebastian’s barriers, which he could tell he was from the way Sebastian’s muscular shoulders tensed, to his hands flexing in the air, balling into fists and then relaxing again. “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think no one else is watching…” Kurt’s voice dropped to a low, velvety whisper. It washed over Sebastian’s body and chipped away even further at his already waning self-control.

“I don’t look at you any differently than I do the other students at Dalton,” Sebastian argued, staring at the wall ahead of him, his voice fighting to stay steady.

“Oh?” Kurt laughed, inching closer. “So I take it you want to fuck every student at Dalton?”

“I don’t want to fuck you,” Sebastian growled. He turned around, preparing to walk back across the room to his desk, but Kurt was suddenly there behind him, crowding him in.

“I don’t believe that,” Kurt said with a giggle. “I don’t believe that at all.”

Kurt put a hand on Sebastian’s arm, but Sebastian shrugged it off.

“Why are you doing this?” Sebastian asked, grabbing Kurt by the shoulders and pushing him away, holding him at arm’s distance. “Don’t you want to find a nice boy your own age who will love and respect you?”

“I don’t want a _boy_ , I want a _man_ ,” Kurt informed him. “And what? You don’t think you can love and respect me?” Kurt leaned over and captured one of Sebastian’s fingers between his lips. He sucked it into his mouth and swirled around it suggestively with his tongue. Sebastian tore his hand away, biting his lip hard to kill his erection…with no luck.

“Kurt, I’m going to tell you this one last time, as your teacher…” Sebastian saw something flash in Kurt’s eyes, something cold and hard, something close to pain “…as your friend…” he continued, his voice going softer. “You need to stop.”

“Stop?” Kurt lifted his hands and ran them up Sebastian’s arms. “But I’ve just gotten started.”

Sebastian closed his eyes, willing himself to stay strong.

“I hear the way the other teachers talk about you,” Kurt went on, breaking free from Sebastian’s grip and stepping into his embrace. “I heard that you were a punk yourself in high school, and quite the stud, too.” Kurt’s voice became a whisper against Sebastian’s neck. “I heard you liked them _young_ …”

Kurt’s lips connected to Sebastian’s skin, and something inside Sebastian came undone. He was losing control of the situation. Sebastian had promised himself after Noel broke off their engagement that he would never allow someone else to control him again. Sebastian wouldn’t mind a relationship with Kurt, but not like this. Kurt deserved more than a quick fuck in the principal’s office, and so did Sebastian.

But Kurt wasn’t listening.

Sebastian would have to find a way to make him listen.

Sebastian spun Kurt around and shoved him up against the wall, grabbing his wrists and pinning them to the wood behind him, one on each side of his head. Kurt whimpered at the rough treatment, but that whimper turned into a wavering moan when Sebastian ran his nose down the column of Kurt’s neck and pressed against him with his body.

“Is this what you want?” Sebastian groaned, squeezing Kurt’s wrists harder until he knew it would hurt a little. “Is this really how you want your first time? Up against a wall in the principal’s office?”

Kurt scoffed, an indignant noise that sounded more embarrassed than offended.

“Who says this is my first time?” Kurt grumbled defiantly. He pushed against Sebastian’s hands, but they were locked on his wrists like iron shackles.

Sebastian looked into Kurt’s blue eyes and grinned cruelly.

“You forget, I was a punk in high school, like you said. Just like you…” Sebastian bounced is head back and forth as he looked Kurt over. “Well, you minus the purple hair.”

“So you think I’m a virgin because _you_ were a virgin in high school?” Kurt jeered, sure that he’d gotten the upper hand.

“Nope,” Sebastian said. “Not by a long shot. But I could spot one from a mile away. Still can.” Sebastian chuckled. “And you’ve got it written _all_ over you, Kurt. Otherwise, why would you need to try so hard?”

Kurt gasped, his entire body freezing beneath the heat of Sebastian pressing against him, his lust-blown eyes watering from the depths of his humiliation. He turned his head to the side, his pale cheeks flaring so red that Sebastian thought they might burst into flame.

When Kurt could finally make himself speak, his voice sounded small and tight.

“Fine,” he said. His hands became dead weight in Sebastian’s grasp and Sebastian let go, letting Kurt’s arms drop to his sides. “I give up. Just give me my damn pass and I won’t bother you again.”

Kurt brushed past Sebastian and headed for his desk. He grabbed his book bag off the floor and dropped down into the stiff leather chair. Holding his bag protectively in his lap, he kept his eyes trained on the toes of his Docs (also not part of the dress code, but Sebastian could let that slide).

Sebastian returned to his own chair and straightened his dress shirt, regarding the defeated boy in front of him. Peel away all the posturing and false bravado, and Kurt was just a kid – scared, insecure, and struggling to find his place in the world. A world that had already tried to beat him down several times before.

It made Sebastian’s heart hurt.

He could use the excuse that, as an educator, he couldn’t ignore a student in pain, but that wasn’t the only reason.

Sebastian cared about Kurt too much.

Sebastian sat in his chair and pulled out a pad of hall passes from his desk drawer. Kurt remained quiet as Sebastian filled one out, tore it from the pad, and handed it across the desk to him. Kurt plucked it from Sebastian’s fingers, careful not to touch him, and clutched it in his fist.

“Now that that’s settled,” Sebastian said evenly, “there’s still the matter of your failing grade in French.”

“So what do I do about that?” Kurt asked, sullen, with the pass disintegrating steadily in his hand.

“I’ve decided to enroll you in our incentives program,” Sebastian said.

Kurt’s nose scrunched, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Incentives program?” he asked. “What incentives program?”

“Kurt, I happen to think you’re an incredibly smart and gifted young man,” Sebastian said, writing another note on a piece of his personal stationary, “so here’s what we’re going to do - you stop the theatrics here at school, you re-take all three exams and bring up your grade in French…”

Kurt’s eyebrows raised, his cheeks coloring again from Sebastian’s praise, a glimmer of hope growing in his eyes. “And…”

Sebastian tore the paper from the pad and handed it to Kurt. Kurt took the note and read it, his eyes going over the numbers written there again and again until he finally absorbed their meaning.

“You call me Friday night,” Sebastian said with a fond smile, “and I’ll take you out to dinner.”

Kurt’s slow burning grin returned, lighting up Sebastian’s entire body from the inside out.

“Putain de merde,” Kurt murmured.

Sebastian winked at him, returning his smile.

“That’s my boy.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Mrs. Forsythe! Mrs. Forsythe!” Kurt called, dodging students as he fought against the flow of hallway traffic heading towards the commons for lunch while he tried to make his way to his French professor.

She recognized his voice without seeing him, and she wasn’t looking forward to stopping and turning around.

“Mrs. Forsythe!” he yelled. “Please! For God’s sake, woman, wait up! This is an emergency!”

She stopped at the door to the faculty lunch room, hand on the knob, one step away from freedom. She could do it, she said to herself. She could walk thru the door and pretend she didn’t hear him. But she’d already stalled. She wasn’t sure she could get away with it.

“Please, Mrs. Forsythe!” Kurt begged, grunting as he was repeatedly buffeted by annoyed boys trying to shove him aside. “This ( _Grrr!_ ) is a matter ( _Watch it, asswipe!_ ) of life … and … death!”

Mrs. Forsythe sighed, turning away from her blessed one hour reprieve. She couldn’t help herself. She couldn’t say no to a student; not even Kurt Hummel.

“What do you need, Mr. Hummel?” she said, forgoing the usual French greeting she used when confronted by one of her students.

The toe of Kurt’s boot caught on the smooth floor, and he tripped to a stop in front of her. His purple bangs dangled just shy of his brow, the effervescent smile on his face as bright as it was rare. He even bowed, which was a little over the top, but something she didn’t think she’d ever see from Kurt in her lifetime.

“J’ai besoin de votre aide, s’il vous plait,” Kurt said, asking for her help, even going so far as to say _please_ , in an entirely unconceited tone, and that clinched it. The pastrami on rye she’d been daydreaming of since third period could wait.

“Allez, Monsieur Hummel,” she said, putting a hand on his shoulder and leading him back to her classroom. “Laisse-moi voir ce que je peux faire pour vous.”

***

When Sebastian got to his desk later that afternoon, he found three French exams clipped together, each with matching red A+’s written on top, along with a sealed business envelope. He opened it quickly, confident that he knew who it was from, and anticipating what it might say. It was a simpler note than he had imagined, definitely less vulgar, and brought a smile to his face.

_Looksie! I did good!_

_See you Friday, Principal Smythe._

_Kurt Hummel_

Sebastian folded the letter carefully, slid it back in its envelope, and put it in his pocket for safe keeping. No need to risk people prying into his personal business by leaving it lying on his desk. Besides, he had his own foolish reasons for wanting to keep that letter safe.

Sebastian had a date on Friday night, with a _teenager_ , and to his own surprise, he couldn’t be more excited.

Kurt and Sebastian didn’t talk more than necessary during the three days before the weekend, exchanging pleasant hellos as would be expected between teacher and student when they passed one another in the halls. But in that small space of time, Kurt Hummel transformed into a different version of himself. The piercings in total had disappeared, the Doc Martens exchanged for a sensible pair of black Oxfords. His black canvas backpack, covered in patches boasting the names of random Indie and retro rock bands, had been replaced by an understated, brown leather messenger bag. And his Dalton uniform, which Kurt seemed to care very little about, was impeccably cleaned and pressed. Knowing what Kurt’s next step might be, Sebastian managed to slip him a note via his homeroom teacher, also in a sealed envelope, which read (vaguely to anyone not in the know):

_Dear Mr. Hummel;_

_If you wouldn’t mind, please don’t touch the hair._

Kurt managed to read the letter in a roomful of students while wearing a perfect poker face, but inside, he was dancing the mamba.

When Friday night rolled around, Sebastian was surprised to find himself pacing his living room floor, actually waiting for Kurt’s call. He worried his cell phone in his hands until the protective adhesive cover on his screen lifted up at one corner. At 7:15, his phone rang. He had to hold himself back from answering it too quickly. But a peek at the number on the screen brought his racing heart to an immediate and indignant stand still.

It wasn’t Kurt.

“Shit!” Sebastian yelled. Answering the call too quickly, he had to switch gears at a breakneck pace, and when he did, it was with a goofy – and _guilty_ – sounding, “Good evening, Patricia! Hi!”

“Did you get that student census paperwork completed and mailed?”

“Yup,” Sebastian said proudly. “Finished it up an hour after the bell rang and sent it on its merry way.”

“For Dalton _and_ Crawford Country Day?”

Sebastian’s smile dropped as fiercely off his face as if Patricia had reached through the phone and smacked it off. The Dalton paperwork alone had taken him over a week to complete. Crawford Country Day had close to a third more students, and Sebastian didn’t know any of them. Not personally. Names, addresses, class schedules would all need to be double checked, and that was going to take him _forever_!

“Wh-what? What do you mean for Crawford Country Day? Sylvia Perkins handles the paperwork for Crawford. She’s their head mistress.”

“Yes, but she’s on maternity leave, remember? You promised to handle the paperwork for their school, too, so that their assistant head master wouldn’t have to. You know he’s got that … _delicate_ condition.”

“Oh, God,” Sebastian groaned, dropping to his sofa. He’d completely forgotten. “Are you _kidding_ me?”

“No, sir,” Patricia said with a not-so-discreet chuckle. “ _You’re_ the one who volunteered.”

He tried to remember, but he drew a blank. It had completely skipped his mind. In his defense, that promise was made during a whirlwind conversation at a countywide A.P. Exam Proctors’ luncheon. He had made the offer after a particularly spicy bowl of curry caused Sylvia’s second trimester Braxton Hicks contractions to flair up. He may have also offered to put together some IKEA furniture. He wasn’t sure. It was all a blur.

“But, you were there, too! And you _let_ me! You know that I can’t be trusted with decisions like this!” Sebastian complained as Patricia let fly with a full-throated laugh. “And let me guess,” he said, running a hand down his face, “they have to be postmarked no later than _Saturday_?”

“Ah, I see you’ve been screwed by this system before.”

“Yeah. And of course it doesn’t matter that I’ve got a date.”

The line went quiet, and Sebastian’s eyes shot open.

“You’ve got a date, sir?”

“Uh … no. Maybe. Just … forget I said that. Please?”

“Consider it forgotten, sir,” Patricia said in a perky clip, like a soldier confirming a command.

“Yeah” – Sebastian smirked, knowing firsthand, and from years of experience, how pervasive the gossip chain at Dalton was, and that it usually started in the faculty lunch room – “right. Look, I’ve gotta run if I’m going to get that paperwork done sometime before the next century.” He sighed. The thought of hours and hours of filling in bubbles and checking boxes gave him a pinchy headache behind his eyes. And tonight, of all nights. Not the nights he spent binge eating Madagascar Vanilla Bean ice-cream drizzled in Courvoisier. Not the nights he spent watching back-to-back episodes of _Daredevil_ on Netflix.

Nope. _Tonight_.

“Hey, Patricia…” He had an idea. It was a long shot, but if he asked sweetly enough, maybe he could save his evening after all “…there’s no chance that maybe you would be willing to …”

“ _Shhhh-crackle-crackle_ , what’s that?” Patricia cut in over the line. “I can’t … _crackle-crackle_ … hear … _shhhh_ … bad connection … _bzzz_ … going through a tunnel …”

Sebastian frowned. Who even did that anymore? “Nice. You could just say _no_ , you know.”

“Oh,” Patricia said in a smiling voice. “Then no. Sorry about that. But you’re not the only one who may or may not have a date tonight.”

“Fair enough,” Sebastian grumbled, sliding down the cushions of his couch in defeat. Well, there went plan #1. Unfortunately, he didn’t have a plan #2 yet. “Have fun, and remember … mum’s the word.”

“Of course,” she said, but hurried off the phone so fast he could hear her rushing to dial another number before the call completely disconnected.

Great. Just great.

At least he knew what would be whispered behind his back come Monday. Took the trouble out of having to guess.

Sebastian’s phone rang again. He didn’t expect it, lost in thought over what he intended on doing now that about 3,000 pages of bullshit had been dropped into his lap, and he nearly tossed it into the air. He picked up the call, praying it might be Patricia calling back with a change of heart, though he knew that was a long shot.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Mr. Smythe?” It was Kurt, without even the subtlest trace of that immature, seductive tone he used when he cornered Sebastian in his office.

“Hello, Kurt.” Sebastian bit his lower lip when he heard himself say Kurt’s name, relaxed, familiar, as if they had been flirting with one another for a while now. In a way, they _had_ been, playing out the overture of this relationship in the halls of Dalton whether they knew that’s what they were doing or not. “You know, as long as we’re talking outside of school, you can call me Sebastian.”

“Oh, okay.” Kurt cleared his throat. The voice that returned dropped to a deeper, huskier note. “Hello, _Sebastian_.”

Sebastian shook his head, grinning so hard his cheeks hurt. _God. What the hell was he getting himself into?_

“Look, Kurt, I’m going to be honest with you. I’ve hit a bit of a snag. I have a ton of paperwork and …”

“Oh,” Kurt interrupted before Sebastian could finish. “No, I … I understand.”

“Kurt, you’re not listening to me. Let me finish, alright?”

“Sure. Go ahead.”

“So I’m going to make reservations for tomorrow night, but I _did_ promise you a date tonight, and I always keep my promises.”

“That’s okay.” Sebastian could hear Kurt’s disappointment. “You don’t have to do that for me.”

“What if I’m doing it for me, Kurt?” Sebastian asked, catching himself off-guard when those words flew out of his mouth, and just how much he meant them. “Do you think I’d ask you out on a date if I didn’t want to _go_ on a date with you?”

“I … I guess I never thought of it that way.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes to the ceiling, contemplating, then preparing, to make a humongous fool out of himself. “Do you know what I was doing before you called?”

“No. What were you doing?” Kurt asked, genuinely concerned.

Sebastian could hear Kurt moving, shifting on his bed from his back to his stomach. Sebastian remembered those wood beds and their hard, uncomfortable mattresses from when he attended Dalton. One of the first things he did when he became principal was to have the beds refinished and the mattresses replaced. Which meant that Kurt was lying on a mattress that Sebastian had personally picked out.

Putting two and two together suddenly made talking more difficult.

“I’ve been pacing the floor with my phone in my hand, waiting. And do you know how _long_ I’ve been waiting?”

“How long?”

“I … I’m not going to tell you that,” Sebastian decided when he felt his cheeks and neck flood with heat, “because it’ll make me sound pathetic.”

Kurt chuckled so hard that he snorted. It brought a smile to Sebastian’s face.

“So, what I want to know is,” Sebastian continued, “would you be willing to hang out at my place with me? We can grab some take out. I’ll pick you up. I think it’s fair to warn you, it’s probably going to be hella boring …”

“Yes!” Kurt jumped to answer, nothing like the impish seductor that constantly haunted Sebastian’s steps at school, but an enthusiastic young man. “Yes, I want to go to your place and be bored.”

“Alright then.” Sebastian grabbed his shoes and started untying the laces. Things were looking up. “I’ll swing by and get you in about …”

“Twenty minutes? That’ll give me enough time to make myself presentable.”

“Yeah.” As he slipped on his shoes, Sebastian felt butterflies in his stomach for the first time in years. “Twenty minutes is fine. I’ll see you then.”

***

Kurt chose to wait for Sebastian at the far gates to the school so that no one would see _Principal Smythe_ pick him up. When Kurt first arrived at Dalton Academy, he heard a wealth of gossip about the oh-so-popular Sebastian Smythe before he even met the man. There was a degree to which this obsession with Sebastian started when Kurt discovered that, back in his high school days, he was known as the boy with the talented tongue that had made three entire graduating classes question (or confirm) their sexuality. Kurt could only imagine what that was like, having that kind of popularity. Back at his old school, Kurt was pretty much a nobody until he became the leader of The Skanks. Just when he was beginning to get a reputation, just when he had found a way to earn a little respect, his father yanked him out and sent him here. And he went back to being a nobody real quick.

What a status symbol would it be to date the _principal_ , especially if the man had _that_ kind of notoriety?

But now, knowing what Sebastian was willing to do for him when he far from deserved it, Kurt didn’t want to cause any problems for him.

Kurt waited anxiously, not sure what Sebastian’s car looked like. Kurt had never seen the man drive. But when an ink black Porsche turned on to the grounds and made its way towards him, Kurt squeaked.

Principle Smythe drove a Porsche.

Of course, he did.

It pulled up in front of him and, as cliché as it sounded, Kurt felt like Julia Roberts in _Pretty Woman_. He even toyed with the idea of asking Sebastian if he was looking for a good time.

“Hey, Kurt.” Sebastian leaned across the seats to open the door for him. The man was dressed down – dark blue jeans and a green polo - compared to what he normally wore at school. It was less sophisticated than the tailored suits that Kurt drooled over, but it also made him look about five years younger.

“Nice car, Principal Smythe … I mean, Sebastian,” Kurt corrected himself shyly while still openly ogling his car. “I don’t know that I would have pegged you as a Porsche man.”

“Really? And how would you have pegged me?”

Kurt choked on that comment before he answered. “Uh … I don’t know. Maybe a Toyota. Possibly a Honda.”

“Ouch.” Sebastian laughed, but then he took a closer look at Kurt and his mouth dropped open. He’d expected Kurt to take the stereotype he’d been cultivating to the next level – ripped jeans, possibly an equally ripped t-shirt, the resurgence of all his jewelry, maybe even some spiky hair. What he didn’t expect was crisp, clean black slacks, and a black McQueen button down with pink floral print, offset by a skull-print scarf wrapped loosely around his neck. A few of the hoops were back – subtle gold ones that hugged his ear close, and the Doc Martens made a return, but these were a shiny, cherry red, much more sleek and refined than the clunky black ones he tried to pass off with his uniform. “Wow,” he uttered as Kurt slid into the car seat.

Kurt looked at Sebastian, his brow lined with worry. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Sebastian reached past him to pull the door shut. “It’s just … you look so _different_.”

“Not different _bad_ , right?” Kurt asked, patting his hair and straightening his scarf. “I mean, it took me about an hour to get my hair the way I wanted it, and even then …”

“No” - Sebastian put a hand on Kurt’s shoulder. Kurt looked at it, then at Sebastian, smiling in a way that stirred Sebastian’s entire body - “it looks amazing. _You_ look amazing.” Sebastian looked Kurt’s face over a bit longer in the low light. “You put the eyebrow ring back in?”

“Uh, yeah.” Kurt reached for it subconsciously with a nervous giggle. “I take it out for school now, but I thought, maybe, after that note about my hair … I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, I don’t mind. It looks good on you.”

Sebastian straightened up and put his car into gear. He had to drive away. Another second longer with Kurt that close and …

Sebastian drove his car off campus, a mixture of hot and cold swirling in his stomach. Should he really be doing this? Yes, Kurt was an adult. A _legal_ adult. But that didn’t mean he was an _adult_ adult. He didn’t have a job, hadn’t paid taxes, and according to his birth date, he hadn’t ever voted. But did any of that matter? The two of them clicked. They had chemistry. Or was Sebastian just fabricating that logic to justify what he was doing? Sebastian remembered the day he’d met Kurt’s father, when Burt Hummel enrolled his son in Dalton. Burt had said he had a good feeling about Sebastian. So many principals he’d met with seemed far removed from their students. But not him. Sebastian seemed to understand the boys on their level; he went out of his way to make a connection with them.

What would Burt Hummel say if he found out _this_ was the way Sebastian was connecting with his son?

“Mmm,” Kurt hummed, a sound that came out more provocatively than it should have, “what is that incredible smell?”

“I bought Thai,” Sebastian said, thankful for the opportunity to drill thoughts of Kurt’s dad out of his brain with chitchat. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all.” Kurt had his legs crossed, his hands wrapped around his knee, eyes peering intently at the gauges on the dash. “Thai sounds great. Especially after …” Kurt pinched his mouth shut.

“After …?”

Kurt met Sebastian’s eyes in the reflection of the windshield and then quickly looked away.

“Uh … how much say do you get, as principal of Dalton, over what gets served in the cafeteria?”

“Ah.” Sebastian nodded. “Yeah. Unfortunately, the governing board and the alumni association of donors have a lot of sway with regard to that decision. But if it’s any consolation, the food wasn’t much better _before_ I became principal. You guys aren’t the only ones who’ve had to suffer.”

“No consolation whatsoever, thank you,” Kurt sniffed.

“What can we do to make it better?” Sebastian asked. “If you had control of the kitchen, what would you serve?”

“I don’t know” – Kurt shimmied in his seat, embarrassed that he’d propelled them into this conversation. He didn’t want to think about school right now, didn’t want to think about that divide of teacher-student that existed between them. “For one, it would be nice if we had more meatless options. I mean, I realize that lard exists at the heart of French cuisine, but some of us have cholesterol levels to worry about.”

Sebastian barked out a laugh that squinted his eyes and threw back his head. When he met Kurt’s eyes in the reflection again, they glared at him.

“What’s so funny?” Kurt asked.

“Nothing,” Sebastian said, “it’s just … I’ve never heard someone your age complain about his cholesterol before.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s not an issue. Heart disease and high blood pressure aren’t just things that affect _older_ people,” he countered, leaning to his left as he emphasized the word.

“Them there’s fightin’ words,” Sebastian shot back. “But seriously, we have single meal stations where you guys can order up something different when you want.”

“Yeah, and have you _seen_ the line for those? Besides, they’re not around at breakfast, lunch is only an hour long, and at dinner, you might as well plan on getting there two hours early unless you don’t mind eating at midnight.”

“Well, the cafeteria only stays open till ten,” Sebastian kidded.

“Ha-ha,” Kurt huffed, but he had a hard time fighting the grin that bloomed on his face from being teased.

“Thank you for bringing that to my attention, Mr. Hummel,” Sebastian said, turning down the street that led to his townhouse. “I promise to take that under advisement.”

“See that you do,” Kurt said, relaxing into the leather seat behind him.

Sebastian’s townhouse was positively tiny compared to the estate he grew up on, but that was part of why he chose it. He never felt anything but fortunate to live in the huge house where he spent his childhood, but it didn’t escape his notice, even as a child, how impersonal it was, how massive and intimidating it felt. Living in this quaint, two-story home, suited him so much better. He liked the feeling that everything he needed was, figuratively speaking, within arm’s reach. He didn’t get lost in it. It didn’t overwhelm him.

Even living alone, he didn’t _feel_ alone.

Kurt helped Sebastian in with the two bags of food he’d bought. Not knowing what Kurt preferred, he pretty much got one of everything on the menu. Thank God some of it was vegetarian. Sebastian, meanwhile, balanced two boxes of forms that he had found hiding in a far corner of his office, where he had apparently left them in the hopes of never having to set eyes on them again.

He dropped them on the floor beside his desk with a _thunk_ , then hurried to help Kurt with the food.

“I’ll set you up here on the couch,” he said, pulling white boxes from the bags and lining them up on the long coffee table. “The remote’s on the arm.” He picked it up and switched on the TV, navigating through start screens to get to the satellite home page. “I’ll be at my desk for a bit” – He motioned across the room to his work space” - finishing up some …” But when he looked up from the TV screen, Kurt was gone.

“You have an _amazing_ amount of space,” Kurt called from down the hallway, the one that led to the bathroom … and the bedroom. “I thought the Dalton principals lived on campus in tiny cottage-slash-huts.”

“They usually do.” Sebastian followed Kurt’s voice. “And the faculty housing is actually nice, but I like the freedom of getting away from campus every night. Just … leave Dalton behind and return to the real world for a couple of hours.” He found Kurt in his bedroom, looking at the picture frames Sebastian had on his dresser.

“Hypocrite. If we have to stay on lock down on campus, you should, too.”

Sebastian watched Kurt wander, perusing his private things without a single thought to ask him to stop, even though he never intended on Kurt seeing his bedroom.

“You’re not a big fan of Dalton, are you?” he asked, following Kurt on his tour.

Kurt shrugged. “It’s okay. It has its perks.” He gave Sebastian a flirty wink. “But, to be honest, I’m just not fond of all the assimilation.”

“You hate the uniforms, huh?”

“That’s a big part of it,” Kurt said. It sounded heavy, but it was a small part of a larger weight. “I like being free to express myself. I’ve always been able to do that with my clothes and my hair. Those are things I could control, things that, even when people bullied me, they couldn’t take away. They couldn’t change me unless I decided to change.” Kurt stopped at the edge of Sebastian’s bed, fingertips hovering over the odds and ends he kept on his bedside table with a small smile on his lips – a Rolex watch, cufflinks, a Mont Blanc pen. “In the end, it wasn’t my choice to switch schools. My father did that. And I’m not angry. I know why he did. But in order to keep me safe, I had to shut away the things I liked most about me.”

“You can be who you want at Dalton,” Sebastian said, not in defense of his school, but to reassure Kurt. “You can dress how you want, express yourself ...”

“Really?” Kurt said bitterly. He picked up the single photograph that Sebastian had sitting by his bed. It was taken a few years ago, when he visited his parents while they vactioned on the French Rivera. “Because I spend eight hours of the day in that uniform. And as for the things I want to do, well, The Warblers won’t touch me, I don’t play lacrosse, and you guys have nothing even close to a theater department. That leaves Model U.N., Speech and Debate, Future Business Leaders of America, and the yearbook. Sorry” – He flashed Sebastian a watery smile - “but none of that calls to me.”

Sebastian took a step towards him, but he didn’t know what to say. Sebastian had attended Dalton, he worked at Dalton, but he’d never been bullied. Hundreds of the kids who attended Dalton had. That’s part of the reason why they were there, but Sebastian never knew how to comfort them. He found ways to bring them out of their shells, but from there on, Dalton – her curriculum, her staff, the rest of her student body – took over.

He’d succeeded in getting Kurt out of his shell, but selfishly, he wanted to lure him out further. He wanted Kurt to trust him, to tell him his secrets.

Kurt looked up and saw Sebastian coming. Realizing where they were, feeling tension growing, he put the photo down, arranging it neatly back into place. “You were a Dalton boy, right?” Kurt asked, walking past Sebastian and heading for the living room. Kurt didn’t have to ask. Sebastian’s picture was plastered in the entry way, in numerous older photographs of The Warblers and the lacrosse team, Speech and Debate, Model U.N….

… all of those clubs Kurt didn’t want to join.

He was changing the subject, returning to something comfortable, so Sebastian let him.

“Yup. Pretty much had my name down on the register since birth.”

“You make it sound like Hogwarts.”

“It kind of was,” Sebastian said, opening the food containers on the coffee table as a way of feeling useful. “You know, awesome and intimidating when you first hear about it. My parents talked about Dalton Academy like it was the gateway to the world. Once you made it there, your future was certain – signed and sealed. You would be a shoe-in success the rest of your life. They also made it sound like getting into Dalton was something I would have to work hard to earn. But, as it turned out, all it took was a $50,000 check each semester, especially considering the fact that my dad is a Dalton alum, and his dad was a Dalton alum. Kind of disappointing in the long run.” He stuck a plastic fork into a container of pineapple fried rice and handed it to Kurt.

“And no three-headed dogs,” Kurt said, taking the container and sniffing the contents with a grin.

“Yeah. That’s a bummer. But you know, I’m looking into it for next year.”

“Damn.” Kurt snapped his fingers in annoyance. “I’ll just barely miss it.” Kurt raised a coy brow over his food. “Do you still have your uniform?”

“Yeah,” Sebastian chuckled. “Yeah, I do.”

“Does it still fit?”

“I’m not certain it would close around the chest, but I think I can still get my arms through the sleeves.”

“You should whip it out for me someday,” Kurt remarked nonchalantly, taking a seat on the couch and digging in to his food.

Sebastian smirked at Kurt’s choice of words, especially since Kurt didn’t seem to catch the innuendo he implied. That tiny slip of innocence brought out the teenager in Sebastian. It made him wonder what things between them would have been like if they were attending Dalton at the same time. Would they have been friends? Could they have become boyfriends? “I might just do that.”

***

Sebastian signed his name on the last blank space on the last page, and put down his pen. He shook out his hand, which had cramped from his knuckles to his elbow. Why they weren’t allowed to file this crap electronically, he’d never understand. Antiquated schools seemed to be governed eternally by antiquated systems. He ran a hand down his face and looked at the time on his phone. It was a little after three in the morning. God fucking damn it! Where had the time gone? Sebastian stood from his desk, cracked his back, and searched his living room. The start menu for the movie _Captain America: The Winter Soldier_ cycled on the TV screen. The movie, and its predecessors, were long over. Kurt, curled up on the sofa, his head resting on the arm, had fallen asleep. Sebastian cursed. He had wanted his first date with Kurt to be something fantastic, memorable. It seemed like Kurt was _really_ looking forward to going out with him. Sebastian wasn’t thrilled by his methods, but he definitely went through a lot … especially at the end, pulling three A-pluses on exams that would have taken the average student close to an hour a piece to complete.

Mrs. Forsythe said that he finished the tests in twenty-three minutes flat, and ten of those minutes were spent fighting against a pen that was running out of ink.

That deserved to be rewarded somehow.

Besides, Sebastian wasn’t lying when he’d said that he wanted this, too, if for no other reason that he wanted to admit than he was curious. What would make an intelligent, handsome young man with such potential like Kurt try so hard to win over an old fogey like Sebastian? And yes, as much as he hated to admit it, compared to an eighteen-year-old boy, Sebastian was old.

He _felt_ old.

Sebastian had wanted to sit next to him on the couch and pry him for all sorts of information about his life, his likes, his wants, his hopes for the future. But instead, he got caught up filling out paperwork and poor Kurt knocked out on his sofa.

Classy, Sebastian. Real classy.

God, he really fucked up. And something told him he wasn’t done. He was just going to keep fucking up where this boy was concerned. At least he had been smart enough to make reservations for tomorrow night before this whole mess began. He’d be able to make it up to Kurt with a proper date.

Sebastian walked over to the couch. He looked at Kurt’s sleeping face – his muted purple bangs, his eyebrow piercing, his relaxed cheeks and lips. He looked so young, but most people did when they slept. But Kurt was also eighteen, and so much a man – in his smile, in his walk (not the strut he put on for Sebastian’s viewing pleasure, but when he hurried down the hall between classes. Yes, he was right. Sebastian _had_ been watching, but he wasn’t about to admit that). In the way he laughed.

The way he said Sebastian’s name, in that seductive tone he kept trying on for size.

Sebastian could too easily imagine Kurt saying his name while they had sex, hard and dirty, on the living room floor, and that was a problem.

Not as much of a problem as Sebastian had made it out to be in the beginning, but still a problem.

Kurt had a lot to learn about being in a relationship, and Sebastian felt he had too much baggage attached to teach him.

Sebastian thought he knew what Kurt might have expected when he invited him over.

And Kurt came anyway, which should mean … nothing without consent.

Sebastian sighed. He brushed Kurt’s bangs away from his face, then ran his fingertips down his hairline, ending at his mouth.

In his sleep, Kurt hummed, and gently kissed Sebastian’s fingertips.

Sebastian’s breathing caught at the sensation, which sent sparks flying up his arm into his brain, shorting out everything he could use a double dose of, including common sense and reality. He leaned forward and kissed Kurt lightly on the lips. He intended for it to be a peck, nothing more. But Kurt smelled so good, and his lips felt so soft, and it had been so long.

So damn long since Sebastian had kissed another man.

He didn’t deepen the kiss, but he didn’t back away.

A few breaths later, Sebastian felt Kurt kissing him back.


End file.
